Dungeon: Rune
by Veician
Summary: Natural disasters of all kinds are destroying a land inhabited only by Pokemon, and the bravery of a few isn't enough to save it. Apparently, however, a few odd personalities and resolute arrogance may be. Rated T for violence and some dark elements.
1. Prologue

The following story is based on--no, make that inspired by the game Pokémon: Mystery Dungeon, Red or Blue version, it doesn't matter. I've thrown in so many of my own elements and ideas that I really have made it my own, so much so that the more devoted fans of the games may not like this at all. If you're one of those people, you can stop reading now.

* * *

_ Prologue: Your Personal Introduction_

It was Spring; late Spring, when the sun would normally be shining bright in the sky and birds would be gliding along, chirping melodies to warm the entire rest of the day, but they weren't. It was overcast, clouds obscuring anyone's view of the sun and letting the entire land know that it probably wasn't worth the effort to get out of bed.

In a town populated entirely by strange but powerful creatures known as Pokémon, this was becoming quite average. Every single day there was one, two or maybe even three earthquakes rocking the land, opening fissures in the ground for helpless victims to plummet into without warning, along with other sad and unfortunate happenings. In the center of that town of Pokémon, Avalon Square, were frequent gatherings of the inhabitants, neighbors and good friends of one another to discuss the current missing persons, such as where they had last been seen and who might be the ones to attempt a rescue.

Rescue, because the moment one would leave the safety of the town or any other civilization there would start to appear masses of wild, vicious and unintelligent Pokémon. These beasts, if you'll pardon the usage, all seemed intent on harming anyone to come near them; if the lost weren't to be rescued within a day or two, it was incredibly unlikely that they would ever come back alive.

But just because one or two brave souls would volunteer to go out and attempt to save one of the current Missings, as they were now commonly referred to as, didn't mean that they would simply go march off to wherever it was that they were thought to be and go rescue them. No, after they accepted the job they would go to whoever had seen the Missing last to get information such as where exactly had they had disappeared and what kind of Pokémon they should expect on encountering in the area. Then, they would set off to the dungeon, constantly shifting areas formed from the recent earthquakes, and search for the Missing until they found them, felt that they were probably dead or the dungeon had started shaking again.

Now if you were in a dungeon and suddenly the earth around you started to violently tremble, would you want to keep looking for the Missing and risk your own life being taken or turn right back around and get out as quickly as possible, before your life might be lost anyway? That was the decision of many who underwent rescue missions, and the threat of death and becoming a Missing yourself was always something to consider.

For that one reason alone, there were very, very few Pokémon who dared to step up from the quivering society they lived in and volunteer to help. Those who did all had their reasons, be it the honor, the fame, the handsome rewards if they succeeded in the rescue or anything else, but it really didn't matter to anyone else. Someone could become a rescuer to somehow get revenge on an old enemy of theirs, but that didn't mean a thing to the ones who needed rescuing.

Actually, there were close to no individuals who went out to rescue Missings; those who wanted to help would join one of the Rescue Teams being created all over the place. These groups were usually made one day and abandoned the next, when the leader and founder decided that they didn't want to risk their own life saving others after all, or after they had almost already lost it in a collapsing dungeon. Because of that, there were few teams that actually lasted for more than a week, and even fewer that had a dedicated and brave leader.

Worse yet, there was one thing above even all of those dangers, problems and struggles: the question of what was causing the calamities. No one knew the answer, nor even how to begin the quest to have it answered. The aforementioned town with the Avalon Square, named Mourburn after its founder, had the most Rescue Teams of the entire land, and naturally they were expected to do something about that question. Still, all of the teams were continually busy with their rescue duties, dealing with the overwhelming amount of Missings and undergoing as many missions as they safely could each day. They never had any real rest, so there was no time to deal with how to stop more people from becoming Missings.

And with all of that explained, the story can now truly begin. Don't make the mistake of thinking that it will be something of drama, romance and thrilling adventure, for such a situation as I've just described simply wouldn't be constantly happy and encouraging. You should go ahead and know that the main characters that you'll soon be introduced to won't always find their soon-to-be day-to-day lives to be convenient; they'll need to work and put thought into their actions to accomplish their goals; above mere heart, they'll need intelligence, muscle, speed and courage.

But don't think that this will be a story of complete hopelessness and darkness, either; as it progresses conditions will improve, friendships will be made and hope will be gained. There will be times to celebrate and others to mourn, but you'll be learning this as the story unfolds, with the writing and releasing of each chapter. And with that, your introduction is now over, and so begins the adventure.

* * *

As you can see, I've changed some details from the game, such as changing Pokemon Square to Avalon Square, but I've already warned you about how I've changed so much. I'll add the first chapter tomorrow, as I've already written it, and hopefully someone will have read this by then. If not, oh well; I'll just have to deal with that. 

Any suggestions or constructive criticism would be appreciated, if you have the time to give them. Without anything else to say that comes to mind, g'bye.


	2. Chapter One: A Detestable Friendship

Here we go, the real start of Dungeon. These first few chapters will be lacking action and you may find them boring, but they're very important to set up the story. I suppose I could have picked less used main characters, but you can be sure that regardless of their species and how commonly they appear in Dungeon fanfics, I'll make mine quite unique.

* * *

_Chapter One: A Detestable Friendship_

It was the tenth of May, nine o'clock a.m. In Mourburn, there had just ended another "discussion" of who had gone missing. The townsfolk had those talks about every two days, although whenever someone fell into a fissure and a friend of theirs was with them, the friend would go racing off back to town to beg anyone who would listen to help. In that way, it was learned who were Missings long before everyone got together to talk about them.

At the one just ended, the main focus had been the disappearance of a better-known member of the Skystrype Rescue Team. He had been on a rescue mission only half a day ago, but two large earthquakes had rocked the dungeon he was in since then. It was likely he and the Missing he had been after hadn't survived, but the concerned citizens and teammates were still hoping that they had.

The only Pokémon who didn't seem to be completely focused on him were a frantic Butterfree, more worried about her son, a Caterpie, than anything else, and an Eevee, the only other one who was interested in saving him. The semi-fox-like creature was well known in those parts for being a very optimistic person with a good sense of humor, but not so much that she annoyed everyone she was around all of the time.

With no one else apparently willing to go and attempt a rescue of him, and because he was just so young, she decided to try to do it herself. She wasn't part of a rescue team nor did she wish to join one, but she and the Butterfree, Gloria, had been well-acquainted for about two years. Everyone liked Dillon, the Caterpie, but they never seemed to actually want to be associated with him; his only real friend was the Eevee, and she loved nothing better than playing with him. She'd rather not let those good times end just then.

She and Gloria were currently headed to the Tiny Woods, where Dillon had disappeared. Actually, he had disappeared under the woods, as the butterfly was explaining; apparently, they were both out for some fresh air and exercise. She had turned her back for only a moment, the ground had started shaking and a long, thin fissure that opened up in the earth plunged Dillon into a dungeon below. She immediately whirled around and, to her horror, saw that her son was gone. She desperately cried down to him to no avail, and she couldn't go down after him because she was too big. Butterfrees are larger than you'd think, actually.

She came back to town as fast as she could and started pleading with anyone she saw to rescue him, but no one would take the job; some claimed that they would, but they too were too large to get down there. Her last hope was the next town meeting, where anyone who might be willing to help her would be coming. Fortunately there was to be one the next morning, though it was a long and torturous wait for her until then. That was then, but now she actually had a real hope in her friend that she might soon see her son again. If he wasn't already dead, that is.

Suddenly, Gloria stopped; her friend wasn't right beside her anymore. She whipped around again, terrified that somehow, something had happened to her too, though as she looked back she saw that the evolution Pokémon was still there, paused as she twitched her ears curiously. She had heard something nearby, and they were already in the outskirts of the woods. But rather than rustling or twig-snapping, it sounded like a--a popping sound. Really, what she heard was indescribable.

Cautiously, she tiptoed over to the side of the dirt path, a light fence of shrubbery obstructing her view of anything beyond it, and quietly parted a section of it with her front paw. Nothing was there. Just to be safe, she then stepped into the shrubbery, looking this way and that with every step for any wild Pokémon that might be looking for an easy meal. Gloria was just behind her, glancing around nervously in the same manner as her friend.

After about half a minute of false anticipation, a very quick search, the Eevee decided that what she had heard was either simply a Pidgey nearby or her imagination. She turned around and slowly found her way back to the dirt path, Gloria and she both relieved that they hadn't actually found anything. Stepping back out into the openness of the path, the fox-like creature took a deep breath and--yelped, jumping back. Lying on the dirt road before her, unconscious, was a large red lizard: a Charmander. Unconscious, not as in sleeping peacefully; by his body position it looked as if he had suddenly collapsed, or simply fallen out of the sky.

The Eevee edged closer to him, not having decided whether he was threatening or not. He looked harmless enough, but it could be a trick, or she might wake him up in a very, very grumpy mood. She slowly circled him, looking for bruises or anything else that might hint as to what happened before he, well, did whatever he had just done.

There were none, which mystified her all the more; his breathing was also normal, meaning that he hadn't been pouring his lungs out fleeing from something or someone. Together, those observations greatly increased the chance that he had just walked up, decided to take a nap and plopped down right in the middle of the road. Not to mention right in dangerous, wild territory. It made absolutely no sense.

Suddenly his eyes jolted open, and the Eevee jumped back once more in surprise. She readied herself for a fight, trying to hide the fear welling up inside of her, but it wasn't necessary; all the Charmander did was lay there, blinking. No jumping up, growling and charging; not angry, confused or frightened. Just laying there, thinking.

Slowly, he turned his head to his right and left, looking at his surroundings carefully. He didn't seem to recognize them.

"So, um..." the Eevee started, finally plucking up the courage to say something, "I haven't seen you around here before."

He turned his head toward her, a cautious look in his eyes. "Well, I don't think I've been around here before."

His voice was ever-so-slightly cold, biting and sarcastic, almost as if he wanted to offend her. Not very common for people who had never even seen each other before, and the Eevee certainly wasn't feeling any more comfortable around him, but she decided that she wasn't just going to give a huff and march away. He was probably lost and didn't want to admit it, and her better nature was urging her to try to help him.

"I'm Chrys," she said, forcing a half-smile to her face.

The Charmander ignored her, twisting his body to face the ground and pushing himself up onto his feet. He seemed intently focused on himself and his surroundings, almost as if he had never seen a Charmander or woods before. Obviously, something awry had just happened to him after all.

After a few seconds of slowly turning around in circles, he stopped and faced Chrys. In a perfectly calm, almost bored voice, he asked, "Where am I?"

It was like something out of a storyteller's mouth back at Mourburn; first a mysterious and completely unexplained appearance, then what was probably the most common question asked in the entire world of suspense: "Where am I?" It was ridiculous. Nevertheless, Chrys was obliged to help, as her subconscious always got the better of her.

"_We_ are in the outskirts of the Tiny Woods. Actually, Gloria and I were just headed into the deeper parts," she answered, more than a slight bit huffy at his lack of manners.

He simply stood there and blinked for a few seconds, as if expecting Chrys to say something further. When she didn't, he said, "Tiny Woods. I actually believe that that's one of the most unoriginal names I've ever heard in my life. Literally."

He was completely serious; there wasn't a twinge of excitement that could hint toward his words being a joke. Of all the rude, egotistical morons--

"Well, we didn't name it that," Chrys stated, resisting the urge to slap him with her paw, "And we've got to go now."

A glance back at Gloria confirmed she seemed very anxious to continue into the woods. With her son's life in danger and this idiot only delaying them, she had good reason to be.

"Any specific reason you're going in there?" asked the Charmander, as if he even had the right to inquire.

Chrys turned back toward the path and started walking, her Butterfree friend a bit confused and warily following. After walking only a few feet, she stopped and answered, "Gloria's son, Dillon, lost his way in there, and we're going to find him."

The two of them then started forward again, leaving the overgrown lizard to go his own way and hopefully never see them again. As they got farther and farther away, Chrys looked back to see if he was still just standing there. To her relief, he was gone, either having gone the other way or having disappeared into the mangled and twisted shrubbery surrounding the path. Whichever it was, she was quite fine with that.

After a little while, the sky slowly faded from view with more and more giant trees obscuring the view from the land; the woods may have had a small name, but they were every bit as dangerous as any other place in that time and had the looks to match. Besides the gnarled, clawed-up and bitten-on plants everywhere, there was one thing scarier than anything else: the small fissure in the center of it all, beckoning anyone near it to come in and be swallowed up by the earth itself.

Standing right above it were Chrys and Gloria, sweating anxiously. The Butterfree's son was down there and she didn't even know if he was dead or alive, and the Eevee was his only hope if he still was. Slowly, Chrys stepped forward, wishing for something to suddenly happen so that she wouldn't have to go down there. Something. Anything. You can probably already guess what happened next.

"Hey."

Chrys jumped back from the hole and spun around to see the annoyingly familiar face of the Charmander she and Gloria had met earlier. Calming down, she demanded, "What do you think you're doing here? We never asked for your company, nor did we want it!"

"Wow. I think that's almost harsh," he said, mocking the fox-like creature's intimidating ability, or lack thereof. "But to answer your question, I thought that you probably needed help."

Chrys' face started to grow red from anger and embarrassment. With no witty responses coming to mind to counter him, she yelled, "Jerk!"

He shrugged it off and glanced down the hole. After seeming to think through the matter in a few seconds, he looked back at Chrys. "...And you were expecting to get back up here how, exactly, after you dived down there?"

She raised an eyebrow, not understanding quite what he meant.

"Obviously, you were just about to go down there. After you found whatever you were--"

"Whoever," Gloria corrected him in a huffy tone of voice.

It was the Charmander's turn to raise an eyebrow as he glanced down the hole once more. "Fine. After you found whoever you were looking for, presumably, you were going to bring them back up here and everybody goes home happily. But, I wonder, how were you planning to get them and yourself back up here? Fly?"

After a couple of seconds of it sinking in, Chrys' cheeks flushed red again as she realized what he meant; she hadn't gotten any rope, vines or any other durable string-like substance to ensure here safe return after she found Dillon. The fissure did have a noticeably large distance between the opening and area where one would land from hopping into it, and in her nervousness she had forgotten even the most rudimentary and important thing.

She looked back at the Charmander, wishing she could melt through the ground. "I... forgot about... that."

Apparently, it was quite an amusing situation as he was barely able to suppress snickering. They had no rope nearby and since they weren't in a jungle, no sturdy vines. So, they had still wasted their time in coming because there was nothing that could be done for the poor Caterpie stuck down there. As the mother she was, Gloria instantly starting crying. Bawling, really.

Chrys wandered over to her to try and comfort her, desperately thinking of ways in her head to continue the rescue. Soon, after some more crying, silent consoling and half-grinning, the Charmander spoke up once more. "So, who were you going after?"

The Eevee bitterly looked up at him from staring at the ground, almost as if their current events were his fault. "Her son. Dillon. He's down there, trapped and alone. And now..."

She trailed off as Gloria fell to the ground, unable to continue flying from breaking out into hysterics. Looking on at the drama unfolding before him, the Charmander dropped his amused face, the situation having apparently lost its humor. He gave a slight sigh and carefully eyed the two other Pokemon in front of him, seeing that they were now taking no notice of him.

Before the they could even understand what was going on, he gave a small dash and jumped into the fissure, barely managing to squeeze through as he nearly hit his head on the side of the opening.

Gloria and Chrys, the tears still streaming down the Butterfree's face, looked up only in time to hear the Charmander's landing in the caverns below. The Eevee quickly rushed over the opening as her friend slowly did the same, fear, curiosity and excitement welling up in the both of them.

"What do you think you're doing? There's no way to get back up!" Chrys exclaimed down at him.

He, meanwhile, was already brushing himself off and studying the new terrain around him. Looking back up the fissure at Chrys, he answered, "That's the thing; you're a quadruped, not able to scale walls without the help of some type of sharp, durable claws, which, being an Eevee, you don't have. I, however, am a biped, and possess a less awkward body shape for the situation at hand by being able to gracefully carry supplies and various other miscellaneous things."

Chrys continued to look on, mystified. "How's that going to help you get out?"

Before she even finished her words, the Charmander had started off into the labyrinth below, searching for the lost Caterpie. There were no words shared between Chrys and Gloria as they desperately waited for his and Dillon's return. Unless, as usual, Dillon was already dead.

It was a torturous fifteen minutes before any sounds were heard, other than the distant wind and insect chirps in the surrounding underbrush; finally, they heard footsteps. The two friends almost stopped breathing as it got more distinct, clearly the sound of bare feet padding on solid dirt and a few dried leaves here and there.

The Charmander walked up to them, holding in his paws the small shape of a Caterpie napping peacefully. Gloria nearly went into hysterics once again as she started sobbing in joy.

The rescuer gently shook the little caterpillar awake. Opening his eyes, he yawned drowsily, not really aware of what was going on; the moment he saw his mother, however, he started squirming in the Charmander's grasp to get up to her, laughing and giggling happily at his own safe return.

He was lifted up and clapped onto Chrys' outstretched paw, scampering up her to finally be back with his mother. The Butterfree hugged him as tightly as she could, laughing with her son. Chrys, not one to ruin the moment, looked on at the ended ordeal with an elated smile. Still, it was a bit hard to believe that such a jerk of a Charmander would do something so wonderful. Either way, she was quite happy with the way things turned out.

Then she remembered that he was still stuck down in the crevice. She looked back down to see that he apparently wasn't very concerned; in fact, he was shoveling a mound of dirt right beneath the opening of the fissure. Quite clever, really.

"Hey," he said to Chrys, "can you get those two back to town, or wherever they're suppose to go? I want to talk to you alone."

Curious but compliant, the Eevee told her friend and her son that it was all right for them to head back to Mourburn. After a bit of reassurance that Chrys would make sure the Charmander got out safely, the two left happily. After they were gone, the fire lizard began speaking again.

"As you probably guessed, I'm not from around here," he stated. "So tell me this: is it a custom of people to go into the deepest, darkest reaches of the woods to play with their children around here?"

After a minute of silence, he said, "I didn't think so."

Quite the observant Charmander he was. With everything he had said and done now, there was still one thing that Chrys wanted to know. "Who are you, anyway?"

Stopping his digging, he stood up to look at her. "My name's Marco. Marco Klein. Just call me Marc." He then went back to shoveling.

Chrys smiled. "Okay, Marc."

Without even looking up, Marc said, "And quit smiling like that; it makes you look stupid."

The Eevee, more on instinct than suggestion, did so. What a jerk. Still, she couldn't seem to keep her mind off him. Rather, his words. Gloria had always been so careful and protective; a good mother to any child. Why would she go to the innermost part of the Tiny Woods? She had always come across to Chrys as having a good sense of direction, not easily getting lost... and being so protective, she would never let Dillon out of her sight. How could this have happened in the first place?

The thought of foul play never even crossed her mind.

* * *

I decided that Marc didn't remember what he was before coming to this land after all, and in case anyone who never played the game is reading, I won't say until it's revealed in the story. Comments, suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome and obviously wanted. 


	3. Chapter Two: Making Arrangements

Sorry to anyone interested in Rune; I got... distracted for a long time. Anyway, I'm back to writing it for real; I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's mainly explanation for things to come, but I don't think you'll fall asleep reading it.

* * *

_Chapter Two: Making Arrangements_

Finally having escaped the fissure, Marc was now headed to the town of Mourburn with his newly-made acquaintance, Chrys. Having so mysteriously appeared in the Tiny Woods, he apparently knew just about nothing of the area or anything about it. He didn't even know about all the earthquakes tearing up the land, Chrys was shocked to discover.

"Lately, all of these disasters have been happening all over the place; earthquakes, mainly, but I heard about some avalanches in the mountains far away and some other stuff, too. No one knows why it's all happening, but a lot of people are blaming the Guardians. You know, legendary Pokémon. Do you know about the rescue teams?" the Eevee asked, surprisingly not out of breath. She must have been an avid talker.

Marc shook his head, not bothering to say anything as he was contemplating all that she was telling him.

"Well, a lot of people have been banding together to make rescue teams, to save all of the victims of the disasters," she continued. "It's just about the most dangerous work there is, but the rescuers become heroes and get paid for every good rescue they do by a company some other, richer people set up."

Suddenly, Marc gestured for both of them to stop. He was still thinking as he asked, "I assume that means this place has a form of currency."

Chrys was surprised again. "Of course! You mean there isn't where you came from?"

"I don't know. I don't remember," Marc said.

Chrys decided not to ask him more about it; he would probably just answer with some biting sarcasm, as she had so quickly learned. She had at least been able to gather that he seemed to have some kind of memory loss and didn't know where he came from or how he got where he now was. Even in her land, she knew how common that was in stories. Imagine something like that happening in real life, right before her.

Before she got back to talking, Marc had one last thing he wanted to know. "So, it seems to me that anyone can make one of these 'rescue teams,' correct?"

Chrys thought for a moment and nodded, not being able to think of anything that would stop someone from doing so. The only limitations were how talented the rescuers were and how quickly their fame spread, if at all. She then noticed that Marc was actually half-smiling; a rare sight, she thought.

"And how well do you know the people in your town? You're one of those people that wants to be friends with everyone, after all," he said.

At that, Chrys felt a bit insulted; it was getting to be quite annoying how well he could observe things. "Yeah, I know a lot of people in town..."

"Excellent," Marc said, finally looking up at her from his previous thoughts, "Then as you probably hadn't thought of, we could be a fantastic rescue team! I need to make money somehow, after all."

Now Chrys was surprised; Marc, of course, was arrogant, blunt and sarcastic, but insane?

She practically had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. "Are you joking? We'd be risking our lives every day!"

"Kind of like all the innocent fools who think that it's safe to go strolling about in the woods, right?" Marc looked right at her and let out an amused smirk. "Too bad they don't fully realize the dangers in these woods, and some people are too scared to go save them. After all, your life is more important than everyone else's, right? Going and risking for someone else would be stupid."

Chrys met his gaze with somber eyes, understanding what he meant. Slowly, she nodded in agreement to him. Marc's smirk widened. "Excellent," he said.

After about fifteen minutes, Chrys having quickly peppered the air with more aimless conversation, their brisk walk was over; they had finally arrived back at town. It was a quaint little place, from what Marc saw: cute little houses dotting the pathways, neighbors cutting the grass in their yards, making friendly conversation with one another.

Looking around a bit, Marc turned to Chrys and asked, "Where's the Rescue Team Headquarters? The place of correspondence for the company you were talking about earlier, I mean."

Chrys didn't even take a couple of seconds to think as she nodded forward. "Downtown. This way," she said, starting off back down the road with the Charmander following.

Soon, there started to appear more hustle and bustle on the street; people with boxes, letters and various packages hurrying along past the two. They had just entered the marketplace, houses replaced with stalls, shops and stands everywhere. The only noises to be heard were people yelling and vendors hawking their various berries, herbs and tokens.

Eventually, with a few twists and turns in the road, it all led up to one thing: a massive wooden dome, dominating everything around it. Even Marc was surprised by it.

Walking inside, it was even more amazing; dozens more stands were set up, like some sort of convention center. Pok茅mon of every kind were there, from Kangaskhan to--

"May I help you?" asked a feminine voice from Marc's right, interrupting his observations. Turning to look at where the voice came from, they saw a young, pretty Meditite sitting on a stool behind a reception counter.

Chrys looked at Marc, not exactly knowing what they were actually doing there. Leaning forward onto the counter as if he were about to whisper, Marc said, "We were hoping to form a rescue team."

The Meditite smiled brightly and pointed over to the far end of the giant room. "What you want is the Post Office, over there. Just ask any of the Pelippers what to do."

Marc and Chrys both turned to their left and saw even more people scrambling around another counter, every other person clutching a letter of some sort, all of them screaming to get some service for their various dire needs. It was insane, how desperate they all seemed.

Marc looked back at the Meditite, a large frown on his face. "I'd much rather you tell us what to do."

The Meditite sighed, realizing that she wouldn't be able to pry the Charmander off of her until he had his desired explanation. "Well," she began, "you still need to go over to the Post Office to send an official Rescue Team formation request to the Rescue Team Commission. When they send back a confirmation of your team's creation, you can start undergoing rescues in your team's name. To receive proper payment, just take the badge they'll send you, for confirmation of your status, and come talk to me again."

It was amazing that she hadn't ran out of breath by then, Marc observed. "And that's it?"

"Just tell them the name you want for your team and who will be the leader of it," she replied. Marc gave a quick half-smile to say thanks and turned away toward the Post Office, dreading wading through that crowd, Chrys following. Before they got too far, the Meditite suddenly warned "Oh, and if you don't complete two rescues in a week of your reply, your rescue team will be considered abandoned and forgotten by you, so you better be serious about this."

Marc waved back at her to show he had heard; two rescues wasn't so much to ask for, so he wasn't worried. The real problem on his mind was how to tell a postman that he and his friend were starting up a rescue team in the middle of a frenzied, desperate mob of Pok茅mon wanting their family and friends rescued.

As they were squeezing through the crowd, barely able to breath with all of the pushing and heaving, an idea struck him; it all hinged on if he could get a Pelipper's attention and how smart that Pelipper was, but it would mean avoiding the mob turning on him and Chrys.

Shoving his way to the very front of all the screaming people around him, Marc had to wait quite a while until, by miraculous chance, one of the postmen finally got to him. "What and who?" the bird asked in a quick, exasperated tone, clearly having gone through the question altogether too many times.

Marc had to yell just to to answer him. "I'd like to request a rescue by Team Red!" he bellowed.

The Pelipper sighed, annoyed, as if the Charmander was wasting his precious time. "There isn't any team by that name; sorry."

"Really? I had heard that someone wanted to form one called that! A Charmander, I think!" Marc hollered back.

For a moment, the postman was simply creeped out as Marc was staring unblinkingly at him, but then his face brightened as he understood the message. Fortunately, everyone around them that couldn't help but also hearing it didn't have a clue what he meant.

"Gotta have your name, then!" the Pelipper shouted, giving a quick glance to check for any of his coworkers were available for dispatch.

Marc leaned closer over the counter and yelled back, "Marc; just Marc!"

The postman nodded and waddled over to another one who had been coming over to serve someone else. Marc saw him point a wing in his direction as he gave instructions to the other Pelipper, who continually nodded before turning around and heading out to make the delivery of information. Satisfied, the lizard, too, squeezed back through the crowd and left.

Chrys, who had been waiting for him, smiled cheerfully when she saw that he looked pleased.

Marc walked over to her, gestured that they could leave, and started up the conversation that if he didn't begin he knew Chrys would. "Well, Rescue Team Red will soon be doing its very own rescues and making a name for itself."

Chrys looked surprised, saying, "What kind of a name is _Red_? That's just a color." She didn't seem annoyed that he had "forgotten" to discuss the name beforehand.

"Obviously," Marc replied, back to his comfortable sarcastic nature. "It's simple; easy to remember. Better than people going 'Hurry! Call that rescue team that I forgot the name of! I think it had something to do with water, but I don't really know.' Depending on how well we do, the very name of our team could be associated with something so preliminary as a _color_. Think of it."

Chrys frowned; she didn't want the team to be all about how famous they could become. What had happened to that speech from before, about courage and integrity? Before she could speak up, Marc continued. "Anyway, I should go ahead and find a place to stay for the night. I have work to do and people to meet, so it's better for me to find a place of residence for now. How about your place?"

The Eevee shook her head, looking a bit embarrassed at the mention of her home. "It's... kind of small," she said, "but I know a good motel you could stay at. It's cheap, too."

Marc gestured for her to lead on and she nodded, smiling once again. As they went back through the marketplace, the air was once again filled with hawking and haggling, Marc glanced around at a few items being sold, not seeing anything he'd need to buy anytime soon.

But, as Chrys had just remembered, she had left her money at home, so they still needed to drop by there and get some to pay for the stay. She fortunately lived only in the outskirts of Mourburn, so it wasn't long until they arrived.

It was certainly small, not to mention quaint; just like every other little round-ish, adobe house on the line of road, Marc noticed. Judging by how she had acted a bit earlier, she wasn't able to afford much better. Then again, she hadn't mentioned any family and no one was bounding out to greet her; she probably lived alone, which could mean that she didn't need anything bigger and was just being modest.

But something else was bugging Marc at that moment; something he was suddenly reminded of, that was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't place in his head. He looked around the street again, trying to jog his memory while Chrys jogged into her home to grab some money; small coins made of semi-precious metals, as she had told him on the way there.

Still, nothing particular was coming to Marc's mind; with his memory loss, it was so frustrating that he might be on the verge of something but just couldn't remember.

The memory he might have had had now vanished, though, and he gave a little shrug to himself and waited for Chrys to come back out with the money, deciding not to say anything as she would certainly make too big a deal out of it. After a couple of minutes, her door opened back up and she popped out, a pouch in her mouth. As they both headed back downtown, she motioned for Marc to take the pouch from her; he did, and she took a quick breath as it came out of her mouth.

"I usually have this carrier thing to wear when I'm shopping," she said, "but I didn't have any plans for that today and didn't put it on. It's where I would have put my money."

Marc nodded, preparing to ignore her when she broke out into small talk. About twenty seconds into the walk to the motel, she started rattling on something about ghosts and hauntings that she carried on about until they had arrived. The place was a large, two-story wooden structure that looked fairly new, though far from luxurious.

They both went in, a few other Pokémon nearby, talking to each other and checking out some maps painted and etched onto boards, but no one was in front of the counter in the back of the lobby. Marc, having the money, walked up to the attendant and pulled out some coins from Chrys' pouch; exactly enough for a night, as she had told him how much that would be. She may have trusted anyone working anywhere, but Marc didn't feel like getting scammed a few coins.

"One room for one night. No additionals," he said to the employee, a Furret.

The attendant smiled politely and nodded, taking the money and putting it under the counter in what Marc guessed was a lock box. Chrys came up to Marc and took the rest of her money back, bidding her friend goodbye and goodnight with only that half-smile-flash as a response, before Marc turned and followed the Furret upstairs to his room.

Upstairs, the hallway was lined with doors and numbers on them, nothing special about it. The Furret opened number twenty and wished Marc a good sleep before turning around and heading back to the desk downstairs.

Marc walked into his room and glanced around, satisfied with what he saw: a fairly clean room with a tiny straw bed in the corner and a modest end table next to it. Really, all he wanted was some space and quiet to figure out his plans and work out the details for tomorrow. He already knew exactly what he was going to get at the marketplace in the morning, with Chrys' money, of course, but he wanted to spend more time thinking about how the stand would look and--

No, he'd decide that after he got something to eat; he was starving, now that he thought about it. Silently grumbling to his stomach about its annoying, constant need for nourishment, he turned right back around to head after Chrys for some food. It was annoying having to rely on her so much and for such basic needs, but it wasn't as if he'd go begging to strangers for a meal. Actually, she was probably on her way home right now to make a late lunch or early dinner or whatever meal she'd have next; maybe when he got money for himself, when the rescuing business got underway, he'd treat her to some free food to repay her. Or not.

So, he'd get some food, get some money so he could do his stand-shopping without her, head back to his room, plot some more and hit the hay, he supposed. It was still fairly early in the day, but Marc had never--rather, he didn't _think_ he had ever been much of a night Noctowl. Besides, getting to bed while the sun was still high in the sky suited him fine; it meant getting up at just an unreasonable hour, when not so many people would be at the Post Office. If those Pelippers were at all good at their jobs, he may even have his rescue team approval by then.

* * *

I was considering putting the differences between the games and my story down here, but I decided against it. I may start doing it for a bit of entertainment, though; who knows. 


End file.
